The Trouble with Trousers
by Seraphim 321
Summary: Draco is all up for an afternoon wrestle. With his own trousers.


**Title: **The Trouble with Trousers

**Author: **Seraphim_321

**Beta:** Suki-Resu

**Disclaimer: **Nothing in the Potterverse belongs to me and I will not try to convince you otherwise.

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **PG-13

**Word Count: **~1300

**Summary: **Draco is all up for an afternoon wrestle. With his own trousers.

**Warnings: **Mpreg. EWE.

**Note: **I was listening to Trace Adkins' _Hot Mama_ and reading fanfiction. Music and reading often come together to birth plot bunnies in my imaginative little mind – maybe a little too often – but the image these two created is slightly ridiculous. =3

Harry smirked as Draco desperately tried to pull on a pair of dragonhide trousers. That particular pair had been collecting dust in the bottom of Draco's wardrobe for the better part of a decade. Harry could barely remember the last time they had been worn. As it was, Draco had gone so far as to stand on his shoulders with his feet against the nearest wall, using gravity to his advantage. That was twenty minutes ago.

Harry sipped his third cup of coffee that day.

Draco merely continued his litany of profanity. "Merlin, dammit…you used to fit…fucking hate you…dammit. Stupid charms don't work on dragonhide. FUCK."

"Why don't you just get a new pair, Draco?" Harry asked.

Draco glared at the other man. He had given up and was sprawled across their bed, feet at the head and head at the foot; his dragonhide trousers were still stuck just below the round of his arse. "'_Get a new pair_'? Did I hear you right, Potter? No, I cannot 'get a new pair' because these were specially made by the best tailor in Europe and that old bat had the audacity to die. I would not trust anyone else enough with dragonhide if Merlin himself sent them to me. No, she was a family secret, making fine garments for Malfoys and Blacks alike until she pricked her _damned finger_. Who fucking knew she was hemophobic and that her own Merlin-forsaken blood would give her a heart attack! I'm not even going to mention this particular breed of dragon has long since gone extinct. To even find enough hide to make a new pair would cost a fortune. Something I am prepared to pay, but there is no amount of gold on this horrible island that someone is willing to _accept_ for something _that rare_!"

"You're just upset you can't fit into them anymore," Harry suggested from behind his mug of coffee. He knew full well that, despite the tirade of the blonde man, the fact the trousers no longer fit was a direct blow to his over-inflated ego.

"Shut up, Potter," Draco mumbled in a wounded tone and shoved a pillow off the bed with his foot. "That's it, we can't go out tonight."

"Draco, don't be ridiculous," Harry said with a sigh. He walked over to the bed and set his now empty coffee mug on the nightstand. "I can barely remember the last time you wore those, so it's no surprise they don't fit. Besides, you don't need to wear them; you can wear a pair of jeans. You know how I love you in jeans."

"What's the point? I'm probably too fat for my jeans, too." Harry knew this Draco, the Draco that got way too melodramatic when something didn't go his way, the Draco that still acted like the spoilt little boy he met in Madam Malkin's robe shop.

He loved this Draco as much as any other.

"Well then, you can wear my jeans," Harry offered. "Merlin knows you look just as great in those."

Draco sighed. "No, that's quite alright. You just go without me. Nobody probably wants to even be on the dance floor with a whale like me."

Harry shrugged. "Okay." He walked across the room to his own wardrobe to find an outfit for the club.

"Harry, if you go without me, you can find someone else to have children with," Draco warned as he rolled over onto his stomach; given that he was still in the too-tight trousers, it was an inelegant motion. He couldn't see the other man's triumphant smirk. "Merlin knows there'll be plenty of willing blokes at the club anyway."

Harry donned an almost innocent grin as he turned back to the blonde. "I know you care when you start threatening me. And I noticed you didn't threaten divorce, merely no more children. Which is really okay with me, I have all that I need."

"Mother would hate me if I divorced you. I myself can't see it, but she absolutely adores you," Draco replied. "That and father would _disown_ me if I divorced you. Especially after adamantly refusing the arranged marriage and stalwartly deciding you were the only one for me. Merlin, I don't know what I was thinking. He could have disowned me then and there, but my guess is he lost his mind about the same time I did."

Harry pretended to glare and threw a pair of jeans at his husband. Draco swatted at them with one hand, keeping them from hitting his face. They fell on the floor.

"Do we have to go, Harry? I feel bloated and unattractive," Draco whinged.

"Yes, you ponce, we have to go," Harry said with a grin. He returned to searching for his own outfit. "It's Seamus' birthday and I won't miss it because you feel 'bloated and unattractive.' Yes, you're gaining weight, but that's what happens, and you know it. It's still early, so I doubt anyone will even notice. No, you're not unattractive. Despite what you say, all eyes will probably be on you all night. You know that, too, you tosser."

Draco grinned smugly at Harry as he rolled off the bed. He quickly shimmied out of the dragonhide trousers, making a mockery of the time spent trying to get them on in the first place. It was easy enough to pull on Harry's jeans seeing as how they were bigger than his to begin with. They hung lower on his hips than he would have liked and were a bit baggier than he was used to, but he had to admit, they didn't look half bad. With a form-fitting black sleeveless, he could almost claim he looked ready for the club.

Surely no one would notice his not-quite-flat abdomen.

Draco turned away from the mirror to glare at Harry. "You dragging me to this party is revenge for my dragging you everywhere else before Lucian was born. Isn't it?"

Harry pulled a t-shirt over his head and shrugged. "Maybe. But even if it wasn't, you're still coming with me."

"But I won't know anyone there," Draco sighed as he collapsed onto the bed in a melodramatic heap.

Harry shook his head. "You'll know _every_one there. They're all from school. You know that."

"Fine! But I won't have anyone to talk to; they're all _your_ friends," the blonde pouted. "To top it all off, I will have to put up with a room full of Gryffindors _sober_! You are a cruel man, Harry Potter."

"You know full well that you'll have friends there, too," Harry said with a smile. "Neville's coming, so you _know_ Pansy will be there. And Ginny'll be there, so that means Blaise will too. You'll be able to talk to them. And you can talk to the Gryffindors, they don't bite."

Draco scoffed. "If you're the poster boy for Gryffindor, then I'll have to disagree with your claim that Gryffindorks don't bite. They do, and hard." He stretched his to one side to display a healing bruise that looked suspiciously like tooth marks.

Smiling, Harry bent over to pick up the pillow that had been kicked off the bed and playfully hit Draco in the face with it. Draco pushed the pillow away and grabbed Harry's wrist, pulling him onto the bed and into a kiss.

The doorbell rang.

"That must be Ron, Hermione, and Anibelle," Harry said and pushed himself off the bed.

Draco sighed and stayed where he was. "I still don't know if I like the idea of a Weasley watching our son with no supervision."

"They'll be fine," Harry called as he walked down the hall to let his friends and their daughter in. "Trust me."

"It's a good thing I love you!" Draco yelled from his position on the bed. He could hear the Weasleys from the living room.

"I know! Otherwise no one else would," came the amused reply.

"No, it's a good thing _you_ love _me_," Draco mumbled in a serious tone as he got up and made his way to the living room. "Otherwise no one else would."

Fin.


End file.
